After Blackveil
by Aereal
Summary: After the traumas of Blackveil, King Zachary has been forced to uphold the marriage agreement. Dark powers are gathering and the final battle between good and evil looms on the horizon. Will the king assert his power and follow his heart? And where is Karigan, who has a part to play in the future of Sacoridia?
1. Chapter 1: Wishful thinking

**AFTER BLACKVEIL**

**Chapter 1: Wishful thinking**

The snow was falling fast, sweeping down in flurries and covering everything with a glistening white blanket until the whole palace looked like a castle out of an ancient legend. The air inside was cold, but the larger rooms had big roaring fireplaces to drive away the chill.

King Zachary looked up from the large stack of papers on his desk, and stretched his arms up to release the tension in his back. Nearly the end of the year, yet still there was so much to be done. Although the crops had been good this year, they still had hundreds of letters coming in from farmers and communities in the less productive areas, asking for extra supplies. And that pile of papers was one of the smaller ones. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. The daylight was waning – the rest could wait until the morning.

There was a knock at the door, and Zachary called for them to enter. Fastion opened the door for a young girl carrying a silver tea tray. "Thank you Tara", smiled Zachary as the girl put the tray on the side table, blushed and dipped a curtsey before hastening out the door.

Normally he would join Estora for tea at this hour, but she was resting, having come down with a cold in the last few days. He wasn't too worried – she was stronger than she looked, and the menders had assured them that the baby growing inside her was not in any danger.

The fire gave a loud pop and he looked up, taking in the dancing flames and the ornate dishes upon the mantle, offering the traditional solstice gifts to Aeryc. According to the Priests' lore, the Moon God tiptoed down to earth in his stockings to visit the earth and reward the faithful with peace and prosperity for the coming year. After the longest night of the year had passed, it signified that Aeryc had re-ascended to the heavens and the Priests offered thanks for the light he would shine upon the earth through each night of the coming year. After this period of thanks giving came the celebrations, and the palace Yuletide Ball was the very next night, although less splendid celebrations would also be happening all over the city. These would be a good deal more enjoyable, Zachary mused, with more lively music and dancing, than the stilted affairs he had resigned himself to.

This of course brought thoughts of her – the wild creature who had captured his heart – with her dancing eyes and fiery spirit. She was never far from his thoughts, and he never ceased to hope she would return. He closed his eyes and his forehead creased slightly with an old pain. "I wish you a happy Yuletide, Karigan… wherever you are", he thought fervently. "May Aeryc and Aeryon keep you safe, my love." Well, they certainly had watched over her for as long as he had known her. He just hoped they always would.


	2. Chapter 2: Yuletide ball

**AFTER BLACKVEIL**

**Thanks to Lil my vigilant beta and Britt32 for the excellent comments **

**Chapter 2: Yuletide Ball**

The ballroom was a spectacular sight – "Estora has really outdone herself this time", Zachary thought absently as he gazed down from the raised platform where he and the Queen sat. She had told him she would better the arrangements she had made for the last ball, which had been held in celebration of their official marriage date, and she had. Chattering ladies in gowns of many colours resembled brightly coloured birds standing beneath the trees which had been fashioned about the edges of the room. Great garlands of silver and green hung from the high ceiling, while graceful dancers swirled beneath.

Zachary fought to keep his polite smile in place, suppressing a sigh as he greeted yet another bowing noble. It had been 3 months since Lynx had arrived back from the Blackveil expedition, bringing mixed news. Mornhavon had disappeared—for how long they did not know, but it bought them the time they needed to prepare for battle. A report from the D'Yer Wall said that only Grandmother and a small girl had appeared through the breach, looking dirty and exhausted, and muttering some strange words before disappearing in a flash of light. Birch's Second Empire forces in the north had been crushed and the survivors fled, thanks to the plan proposed by Estora. Yet Zachary was sure they had re-grouped somewhere, and he felt sure the battle would come soon, despite there being little sign of activity from Second Empire.

He thought back to his vision in the tumbler's mask, of arrows in flight, cutting a deadly arc through the air straight towards him. Every time he thought of the vision it made him shiver in apprehension. Although, if it was really going to happen there was nothing he could do except prepare as best he could, and wait. A similar uneasiness seemed to be felt across the land, with Green Riders bringing back reports of stirrings amongst the population. His people knew there was a war coming, and the tension had erupted into some of the fights and disagreements that he had dealt with in his public hearings.

The tension in the castle was no less palpable, although his own battles had already begun from the moment he woke up in his chamber to find himself married and the consummation rite already performed. He had some memories of the ritual, but they were filled with illusions of _her_—but she had been far away at that time, and so he had realised that his subconscious had played tricks on him in his semi-delirious state. Now with his formerly most trusted advisors dismissed, he needed to form good relations with his new advisors, appear well and un-injured to the visiting Lord-Governors, and hold war councils to plan for the coming battle. He needed the country to be strong and united, just when he felt his strength to be at its lowest ebb.

And so he had played along with the marriage instead of throwing it off. He could not do it at that point, just when the Lord-Governors had heard of his injury. He needed to show his strength, and could not reveal to them that he, their King, had been married suddenly against his will by his advisors. They had put him in a corner, and so had Estora. So he bided his time, carefully formulating a plan. He knew now he could not live with this marriage, not one that went so much against the feelings of his heart, and which reminded him of his weakness every time he looked at Estora. He had been kind to her when he awoke—she was almost as trapped in this as he was, so he did not really blame her—although he wished she could have shown more spunk. No, it was he who had stupidly agreed to the marriage contract, and he fiercely regretted it.

Yet more painful news had come a week after he woke. Zachary had been in his study looking over the latest reports from his military commanders when Fastion had announced the unexpected arrival of Beryl Spencer. She had told of a conversation she overheard in one of the taverns in the city, while disguised for a mission, between a stranger and her own Rider captain. "She spoke of letters from you Sire, I do not know which ones, but she said she burnt them. All of them. For the good of the country, she said. The man just laughed and said he hoped for her sake the king never found out. They seemed to be on friendly terms, but I have never seen him before. I would normally speak to Captain Mapstone but…" Beryl stopped momentarily before continuing, "I would be very unhappy to think that our captain was involved in some treachery against you". Zachary sat for some moments in shock while Beryl watched him expectantly. "The letters were of a personal nature Lieutenant Spencer", Zachary said at last. "So as such she has not committed treason against the country. But she has betrayed my trust, and I will deal with her." He glanced up at Beryl, who looked relieved. "Your report has been most helpful. Thank you."

"That explains a lot," he had murmured to himself, as Beryl bowed and left. "Perhaps she thought I no longer cared… but now she is gone." He rubbed one hand over his eyes. "Donal, have Captain Mapstone brought here immediately." Suddenly he saw himself through another's eyes. Karigan had always been so firm in her principles, what would she think of him now? He had declared his love for her and said he would find a way for them to be together. And now he was married, with a child on the way. He had been kind to Estora, even led her to believe he had begun to care for her. How Karigan would despise him. He rested his chin on his steepled fingers as he formed his plan, a brooding expression on his face. Nothing was hopeless, even now. But he would have to act carefully.

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The king's thoughts drifted back to the present and he once again became aware of the ballroom. The crowd clapped as the dance music died away. Estora touched his hand, asking politely "are you all right, Zachary?", although she knew the answer. "Of course", he smiled, keeping his Kings mask firmly in place. Her own smile slipped slightly. She shouldn't have expected him to really answer her, especially here. But she couldn't remember the last time he answered her truthfully, trustingly. She sighed and turned back to watch the dancers begin another dance. It was only fair enough; it was only recently that he had been betrayed by everyone he trusted, including herself. Estora had been half certain he would blame her equally, enough to break the contract and send her away, or worse, condemn her as a traitor.

The King suddenly turned to Estora, saying abruptly, "would you care to join me on the balcony?" He stood, and the musicians faltered for a moment. He waved for them to continue. Estora stood and they made their way out into the cool night air, Fastion following in the shadows. She drew her stole more closely around her shoulders. Zachary looked up at the night sky as they walked to the far end of the balcony, then stopped and turned to her with a strange glint in his eye. "I am sorry. These formal occasions make me feel even more trapped than usual, and I fear the tension of waiting for battle is gradually getting to me". Zachary glanced around and lowered his voice. "You must excuse me for not being as open as I once was. Although you have shown your loyalty, I have seen too much treachery. I feel too much my own guilt in bringing situations to pass, for assuming those I was close to could be trusted, for not speaking from my heart when I had the chance", here he paused and a shadow passed over his face. "But I must carry on and unite my subjects, and make of the future what I can. From what you have shown me, I think I can rely on you to do your duty to your King and country without hesitating. I cannot have those around me questioning my judgement in times to come". His gaze was searching. Estora was disconcerted; he said he trusted her, but there was an edge to his words that was a warning as well. She felt the hidden strength of the king as he spoke, and she wondered what he was planning. "Yes of course—sire—Zachary" she said automatically, her heart beating faster, her hand resting on her growing belly.

Fastion appeared beside the King from out of the shadows. "Your majesties, it is time for the King's Yuletide speech".

A few moments later the monarchs ascended the dais. Estora sat carefully on her throne, still unsettled by their conversation. The crowd fell silent as Zachary stood before them. His stern gaze roved over the crowd. "Your excellencies"—he nodded to the Duke and Duchess of Rhovanny, who stood with their delegation—"Lord Governors, honoured guests. I fear we are coming again to difficult times. Times that perhaps have not been seen since the Long War. We have grown used to peace and prosperity, and have forgotten what hardship means. But more than that, we have forgotten what unity means. The time is close upon us when we must stand together as one."

As the King's speech went on, Estora could see the crowd grow still, their faces reflecting apprehension, and then determination. Truly Zachary was a great leader. He could stir his people and inspire them, and she was sure they would follow him fearlessly into battle. Estora saw Zachary looking at the Coutre delegation. Her too-young sister stood at the front where her father should have been, and behind her stood their mother, still in her mourning clothes. For a moment as Estora looked at her family, she considered with a stab of sorrow what could have happened if the betrothal had never occurred. Her father would still be alive, and she would have eventually succeeded him as Lord-Governor of Coutre Province. But she had developed a strong regard for Zachary in these long months since his injury, and could only wish that he would confide in her once more as he had begun to in the weeks after he awoke. There had been a point where he cut himself off from her, becoming more distant and abrupt; it had been after an unusually vehement argument with Captain Mapstone. He refused to talk to Estora about the argument, but inexplicably threw himself into endless appointments and war councils.

Estora turned to watch Zachary as he continued. "This time, this battle, we must find a unity stronger than our individual interests, our provincial interests, for the good of the whole country. Let us remind the forces of darkness that Sacoridia is great! And we will triumph over those forces of darkness, as surely as the sun must rise each day!"

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As he finished his speech, Zachary felt triumphant. Yes, he had them where he wanted them. The nobles couldn't argue with him after this. Creating dissention at a time of war was tantamount to treason. He had achieved what he had worked for every waking moment for these past few months—the seemingly impossible part of his plan—he had regained the nobles' trust. Now just one piece remained missing. Where was Karigan? His whole plan, his hopes, rested on the fact that she was out there somewhere, alive. And that she would come back. To him.


	3. Chapter 3: Lost and found

**AFTER BLACKVEIL**

**Chapter 3: Lost and found**

Karigan sat against a rough stone wall with her head resting on her knees. Somewhere in the darkness she could hear the drip of water falling into water. Her entire body ached all over, and blood was running down her face from a cut on her temple. Her hands stung where she had shredded them against the unyielding stone, trying to force her way out of the tiny stone box. Then the world had spun around her and she found herself in what appeared to be a larger cavern. She longed to lie back down and let the tide of unconsciousness overtake her, but she forced herself to stay sitting, and to think. Her brain was hazy about the events of the last few—days? Weeks? She did not know how long she had been in that tomb-like box; it was a blur of darkness and pain.

She remembered shattering the mask, and the mad look in Yates' eyes disappearing as Mornhavon left, injured and enraged. She remembered falling through the streaks of light, and the strength of Westrion's arms as he had caught her and guided her back to the physical realm. Then had awoken inside the stone box; she shuddered at the memory. Hardly able to move her limbs and running out of air, she had thought for the first time that she might die. She had drifted into unconsciousness, and slipped between the layers, floating down to a place she had never been before.

An empty plane stretched to the horizon, just like the white world, but this time it was in darkness, with only a faint sourceless crimson glow bringing light. Suddenly a white light flared in front of her, and a man's face appeared before her, with sandy hair and a pointed beard. There was something familiar about him… then she remembered; she had seen his younger self in her travels, and had seen this older face in the Mirror of the Moon. The mirror had allowed him to see her too. Hadriax el Fex smiled grimly. "Galadheon—my own blood. I know your face now. Westrion has marked you, as he marked another that I knew." Karigan wondered dimly if he was talking about Lil. "You truly have the fighting spirit, and you are destined for great things. Long have I waited for one who would wield this wisely, for it was entrusted to me by King Santanara himself after the fall of Mornhavon." His face began to dim and flicker. "This time it must be forced to act in harmony. Sing with it. I am glad you bear my name, Avatar of Westrion, Rider of Hope." He faded and she found herself in blackness again and was breathing heavily, as if she had been running. The words that Prince Jametari had spoken to her long ago drifted back to her: _"Galadheon, you shall hear Westrion's wings brush the air. To live, you must first die"_. Surely she wouldn't have to actually die down here? It was all so confusing. She wished someone would talk plainly to her, instead of in riddles all the time. Was that too much to ask? She clenched her fists and cried out as a sharp object dug into her palm. "The Black Star" a voice whispered in her mind. She felt it hum with energy and suddenly she was fading into a different blackness, a large cavern with cool air brushing her face.

She guessed she was still underground, but at least she could breathe now, and sit upright. She must have been inside Hadriax's tomb, she thought. He must have had the Black Star buried with him, weaving a magic so that only the one he chose could find it. With Westrion's help she supposed. "If only the Gods could put me somewhere more comfortable", she thought, grinning wryly as her anger faded. "Ouch". Even her face was hurting. Gods, what she wouldn't give to be lying in the hayloft back in the stables. The image arose in her mind unbidden of a pair of almond eyes gazing down at her, filled with love and concern as he comforted her. It was this image that had forced her to sit up, to keep going in these dark places. The Black Star began to hum again, as if in response to her thoughts. Suddenly she felt herself falling, pulled through the layers of time and space, and the complete darkness swallowed her as she fell.

Karigan shifted her head slightly, and breathed in. It was a fresh, horsey smell, just like—and then it hit her. The Black Star had transported her to the stables. To the hayloft, exactly as she had been thinking. It must be enhancing her powers, like the wild magic had done, but a thousand times stronger. She wondered if she had travelled through time, or merely through space. She did not have the energy left to move, wincing as the pain in her body returned. "If only Ben was here," she thought. "The Gods know how much I hate the mending wing, but I don't know how much longer I can"—she stopped mid-thought as she was abruptly pulled back into the blackness. When she opened her eyes she was in a dimly lit room with white walls, lying in a soft bed. She shivered, freezing cold despite the warm blankets that somehow covered her. The sound of beating wings filled the air, just as she drifted into unconsciousness once more.

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"She's what?" Zachary shouted, standing abruptly. Everyone in the throne room froze, staring, and a few of the Weapons edged closer. "I—beg your pardon your Majesty" stuttered Gideon, one of the junior menders. "K-Karigan is in the mending wing, your Majesty. Ben is tending her wounds now. She is… not conscious your Majesty; and we have no idea how she got there. No one saw her arrive". Out of the corner of his eye the King saw Fastion flick his head towards one of the other weapons, who strode out of the room, no doubt on their way to question the guards at the gate. Zachary felt Estora grip his shoulder as she came to stand beside him. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to keep his emotions under control.

Mara, standing nearby ready to assist the king, felt tears of relief well up in her eyes. She had been so worried about Karigan, and knew many of the other Riders were too; but with Captain Mapstone now gone, having been commanded to take a one month leave of absence, Karigan's courageous spirit and encouraging smile was noticeably absent. Mara smiled as she thought how surprised Karigan would be if she knew how deeply her friends missed her when she was gone. She looked up and saw Fastion give her a small smile, then whisper something to Castellan Ellerton, Zachary's new chief advisor. Ellerton was still an active weapon when he was appointed to the position just one week ago; for all anyone knew this was the first time that had ever happened. Ellerton strode over to the herald and asked Neff to announce that the public hearings were closed for the day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Recovery and a warning**

Zachary sat at Karigan's bedside. In the flickering lantern light she looked pale and thin, almost as if she was still faded out. The menders had done their best to clean and heal her wounds, but she was still unconscious, so they had no idea what had happened to her. "You're safe now Kari," he whispered. "You made it—you came back to me. There are…complications", he winced as he thought of telling Karigan about his marriage, and worse still, the consummation. He could imagine the contempt in her face, and pushed his own memories of that night as far as he could to the back of his mind. "I'm so sorry Karigan, I really am. I promised you things, and I have not kept my promises. I am hopeful that in the future I can do something to fix this awful mess."

He looked down at her hand he held in his own. Her slender fingers were scarred with tiny marks where they had removed the shards of glass. The words kept tumbling out, as if once begun he could not stop. "Please forgive me—I would have begged you not to go. I _should_ have begged you not to go. I should have overcome my doubts, and even though I was told that you did not wish to see me, I wish I had overcome my pride and spoken to you regardless". His voice was hoarse with regret. "It's entirely my fault that you, who are so brave and fearless, have been placed in danger because of my own cowardice, not to mention my damned obsession with the activities of those Eletians—" he broke off as she stirred.

"Zachary", he heard her whisper faintly. Joy surged through him and he leaned forward, squeezing her hand. Karigan opened her eyes. "Kari" he breathed, saying her name as if it contained all his hopes and fears. He bent to press a kiss to her forehead, murmuring against her cool skin, "I love you Kari". He straightened up again to gaze into her eyes. "I love you, more than anything in the world. And you came back to me". Her eyelids began to close again. "Rest my love, recover and be safe" he whispered, his throat constricted with unshed tears. He felt her squeeze his hand in response and he chuckled softly. She had been through the Five Hells and come back, and here she was trying to comfort _him_.

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As Fastion passed through the entrance hall after breakfast he stopped to gaze outside. The dawn had only just broken, and the weak light glinted on the first of the spring growth. Green shoots poked hopefully out of the thawed ground and the morning dew sparkled on new leaves. A song bird darted from the undergrowth and perched upon the stone wall, singing. Across the castle grounds the inhabitants of Sacor City were already going about their business, opening shops or driving wagons to market along the cobbled streets. History was being made in the castle, but life went on below. Fastion squinted towards the gate, seeing movement on the path beyond the wall.

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The guards at the entrance gate stood aside as a Green Rider galloped towards them. "It's Rider Connly", one muttered as the Rider passed through, his horse grimy and sweating heavily. "Must be urgent" answered the other guard, as they watched Connly ride right up to the entrance of the castle and dismount hastily.

Connly ran inside and called out for a Green Foot runner. Fastion strode towards him. "Connly", he called, "everything alright?" Connly spoke quickly to the Green Foot boy who had appeared, then glanced at him, already hurrying away in the direction of the royal suite. "Urgent message for the king", Connly said over his shoulder, still breathing heavily. "Trouble in Mirwell. Mornhavon. Second Empire". Fastion cursed and quickened his steps to keep up with the Rider. He had been up all night, but he wanted to hear this report for himself.

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Ben knocked quietly on the door of the mending room and then opened it to address Zachary. "Your Highness, a Green Foot has arrived with a message. Connly is back and needs to see you urgently. He is on his way to your rooms now to report". Zachary glanced at Karigan's sleeping form and exhaled sharply. There was a long pause. Finally he answered softly "please ask the Green Foot to fetch Mara to sit here with Karigan. I won't have her left alone". Ben acquiesced, bowed and closed the door as he left.

When Zachary arrived at his chambers he found Ellerton and the other advisors already there, as well as Connly. Fastion stepped forward quietly from the corner as the others bowed. "Forgive me your Majesty, but I took the liberty of summoning your advisors. This sounds like a most urgent message." Zachary just nodded his thanks. Fastion had been most helpful after Captain Mapstone went away, and often did things in anticipation of a request from the King. Zachary noted as he sat down that Fastion had not invited Estora. "Please begin, Rider".

As Connly gave his story, Zachary found himself shaking his head in astonishment. Connly had been on a routine delivery mission to the west, and was passing through Mirwell on his way back to Sacor City. His Green Rider cloak had been damaged and so he was wearing a spare grey one. He had stopped near a busy marketplace to let his horse drink from the public trough and was just about to mount and depart when a white cat appeared, winding itself around his legs. As he bent down to scratch its ears it simply fixed him with its luminous green eyes and then took off, darting across the square. He took a few steps forward to follow it but it disappeared amongst the crowd. Just as he was about to turn back to his horse, he overheard a conversation between two men nearby that made him freeze, speechless, in the shadows of a doorway.

"Grandmother said to tell you she will be ready within two weeks. His Greatness the Black One has recovered his corporeal form, with her assistance, although it nearly took her life." The other man had asked "are you sure no-one knows of this?" The first man answered, "There are no spies in my ranks Your Lordship". "It is just as well", answered the other man in a querulous voice. Then this second man had turned, and Connly recounted how he suddenly recognized him with a start—it was Lord Timas.

Connly reported that something had changed about Timas; apart from the way he spoke, there was a red glow from his eyes. "He was also wearing a large medallion with symbols I did not recognise. I think he has been influenced by some kind of magic, or even possessed", concluded Connly tiredly. There was a silence as everyone present took this in. At last Zachary said, "Go and rest Rider Connly. We can only give our heartfelt thanks that you happened to overhear this—it must have been the grace of the Gods that brought us this information. Please tell Mara that I will see both of you first thing tomorrow, and to recall any Riders presently in the field. There is a battle looming, and the Riders will be an important part of it". Connly nodded and bowed to the King and the others, before leaving quietly.

The King's advisors gazed at him for several moments in shock. The king appeared unruffled; if anything he looked relieved, but there was a crease to his brow. He had been expecting a battle to come soon, and his instincts had been right. He drew a deep breath and assessed the faces around him with his piercing gaze. "It seems the time we have been preparing for has come. And Aeryon be praised, we have prior warning. Probably only a week or two, but it will be long enough to prepare the troops. Make your final preparations; we will have our first council in two days time. We leave in a week. When Mornhavon comes, we will be waiting for him."

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**Ooh, King Zachary means business! The big battle is finally coming.**

**What did you think? Please review! Show your appreciation by taking a minute to write a little something - - it's good karma haha =)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you everyone who read and reviewed! **

**I shouldn't nitpick but… please don't ask rhetorical questions in a review, especially as a Guest! **

**If you actually WANT to know how or why I am doing something, send me a PM! I answer happily and, for the most part, promptly.**

**For some reason I got a couple of reviews for the Entwine fic asking me to write more soon, but it's finished. The last chapter says "The End"… **

**I know it took me ages to get chapter 4 of this one up, but I've got the rest pretty much written so it won't be long between chapters from now on. And yes, Estora is in this chapter.**

**If you're not adverse to fics (which you're obviously not, because you're reading this), try writing one yourself! Owlkin started a great page in the Forum with suggestions and challenges for new fics. It's great fun and everyone is very nice and polite around here so you don't need to worry about being unreasonably criticised. **

**Enough chatter – here it is.**

**Chapter 5: Secrets and a plan**

The following evening, Fastion strode silently towards the Weapons wing, having just finished duty for the day. Karigan still slept and had not awoken except for the brief moment in which she recognized the King; the menders said her body had been at the end of its strength and simply needed time to rest. Zachary continued to sit with Karigan as often as he could between engagements, and heedless of the mutterings from others; he mostly ignored Estora. He had evidently decided he didn't care about appearances, and the Weapons on guard stood watch while the King drifted off where he sat and then awakened again to check on her. Finally Donal had whispered something to one of the menders and another bed had been brought in and fitted against the wall. Even then Zachary refused to rest for more than a couple of hours at a time.

Although most thought the King's behaviour was odd, Fastion was deeply relieved to see Karigan back. He had been one of the few Weapons who disagreed with Colin's actions regarding Zachary's marriage, knowing the king's feelings for Karigan, although he did not have the power to protest their plans. Also, Fastion knew his sister-at-arms still had an important part to play in the coming events, as foretold by a literal interpretation of the secret Texts that all Weapons studied at the Forge. Her sudden appearance now, followed by Connly's news, only confirmed his suspicions.

Just before the door leading to the Weapons wing he turned right down an ill-lit corridor that sloped downwards. Several more times he turned, left and right and right again, heading deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle. Fastion walked past old dusty suits of armor and forgotten tapestries, lengthening his strides as he hurried purposefully along his well-known route.

Fastion stopped at an unremarkable door and slipped inside. He moved quietly to the only free seat, nodding to several others among the dozens of Black Shields who sat solemnly around a large, plain table. Most of the Weapons were here, even some of the Tomb Guards. He caught Brienne's eye as he sat. He also nodded to Geron two seats further down, who had arrived last night from Breaker Island.

At the head of the table, Commander Voss inclined his head slightly to Fastion. Pytr Voss had taken up leadership of the Weapons after Colin Dovekey was banished to Breaker Island. Only in recent weeks had the Council of Weapons finally decided that Dovekey would be sentenced to life imprisonment, rather than Saverill's fate. In these times it was wise to be more invisible than ever, and subjecting this particular traitor to be eaten by vultures atop the castle would assuredly not assist them in keeping a low profile. Their decision to replace Dovekey with two positions also reflected these vulnerable times. The tall and angular Voss—a somewhat younger man—was now Commander, the practical head of the Weapons' movements, and Tiyhryd Angg, a tiny old man with the dark skin of the Cloud Islanders and startlingly white tufts atop his wrinkled head, became the King's Black Shield Advisor.

The dim candlelight flickered from large branching candelabras set in sconces at intervals around the bare walls of the cavernous room. In the far corner, manacles and rusty chains remained as a reminder that in times long past this room would have been part of the maze of dungeons. But with the formation of the Weapons, large parts of this forgotten level below the castle became used for their armory, manuscript stores and meeting rooms. Even the King had never visited most of them.

Voss raised the bushy eyebrows that protruded from his sharp face and stood to begin; in his hand he held a bonewood staff, one of only two of its kind. The assembled Weapons also stood in one movement. To Voss' right, Angg's white hair looked like it was suspended in the gloom. "Black Shields all, we remember the Ancient Pledges. To fight, to live, to die, for Sacoridia and the King. Death is Honour". "Death is Honour", echoed the black Weapons, each touching the small black wooden shield pinned to their jerkins. "The Wings of Westrion be with us all" replied Voss, and they took their seats again.

Voss remained standing. "Gathered Brethren of the Black Shield, we have come to a day many years in the making. The day of reckoning is truly upon us, and it seems the Rider of Hope, of which the ancient Texts speak, is among us again. Now is the time to fulfill the prophesies, and I will ask Fastion to speak of this".

Voss nodded and Fastion stood, looking at the faces around him, most with slightly awed expressions, a few with slight cynical disbelief. He thought fleetingly though, of what Karigan would say if she was here—that they all looked like tomb stones and how could you expect any newcomer to tell them apart—and one corner of his mouth curved up. "Greetings brothers and sisters-at-arms. I am sure by now you have all heard of the sudden return of Rider Karigan G'ladheon. I have spent much time studying the Texts, and have come to the conclusion that not only is she worthy of our notice as a sister-at-arms—upon which we have all agreed—but also, she is the one for whom we have waited. The Rider of Hope.

"Mornhavon, our sworn enemy and the evil at the heart of Blackveil Forest, is now on the move, no longer contained by the D'Yer Wall. As you know we have just received word that Second Empire is gathering forces in Mirwell province under his direction. We know they will strike within a fortnight. The time is now upon us when the Secret Promises must be kept. As we have sworn, 'When bonewood is done, and the Dark One is fought but not won, one Rider appears unseen, and then shall the Second War commence. And then the Black Shields shall reveal their secret to the Rider of Hope, lest all fall into blackness.'

"I believe that Rider G'ladheon's recent arrival, with the aid of, I would guess, some kind of magic"—his mouth twisted slightly as he said these words—"fulfills the description sufficiently. I also think Dovekey, although I do not agree with many of his actions, guessed it enough to have the first bonewood staff made and sent with Rider G'ladheon on the Blackveil expedition". Across the table Geron nodded solemnly.

"The dark magic is rising again. Our secrets have been closely guarded until now, but the Second War is coming, and by Westrion's Wings, it is time for us to come out of the shadows and act. I ask all of you to think upon it, and state your position on this matter". Fastion finished and sat down abruptly, watched intently by all eyes in the room.

Voss stood again. "All in favour of this raise your hands". Fastion watched with satisfaction as every Weapon in the room raised their hand, and suppressed the urge to smirk. It was well, he thought, that he had spent so much time observing the King in his various political disputes; it certainly was as much of an art form as fighting with a sword, and it had paid off tonight. The meeting went on well into the night, as they discussed and deliberated on the events unfolding.

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King Zachary rubbed his temples as the Castellan called yet another meeting to a close. To his right sat Estora, her expression unreadable. Around the large table the various Lord-Governors and military advisors spoke quietly to each other as they rose. It had been a long day, starting at dawn with a quick check on Karigan before training with Drent. The arms master was characteristically unrelenting, ignoring the fact that the recent rainfall had turned most of the training field into a quagmire. After his grumbling manservant had helped him change his muddy clothes, he had met with the Green Rider captains, then with his advisors and the quartermaster on the subject of supplies, rations and arms. A surprise visit from Rider Lynx provided some variety before dinner, but after this final meeting he was well and truly ready to turn in for the night.

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As Estora strode from the meeting, she could feel a headache coming on. She rubbed her temple, not slowing her pace. Finally she reached her study, and collapsed into an oversized chair, one hand clutching her hair and the other her enlarged belly. She barely noticed her maid lighting the silver-wrought candles. Never had so many powerful emotions surged within her. When Karigan had arrived back, she had been overjoyed for her friends return, yet apprehensive about what Karigan may think of her now. For all she knew, Karigan probably thought Estora ordered the attempt on her life in Blackveil.

She was ashamed of the small treacherous part of herself that had been glad Karigan did not return from the expedition. When the King awoke from his injury, he was so kind to Estora that this treacherous voice whispered to her that if she could just keep encouraging the trust between them, there would be some attachment formed on his part, just as she had begun to feel herself that she loved him. And Laren, who was such a trusted advisor, encouraged her in this, and helped her to find ways to be intimate with him. The small treacherous part gleefully accepted her assistance; after all, it was so much easier to follow advice than one's own conscience.

Then came Zachary's argument with Mapstone, and he sent Laren away and cast a wall between them. Try as she might to break through to him, he simply treated her with cold politeness. She had accepted this with patience; surely if she just persisted she would find a crack in the wall, help him to deal with whatever was going on and have him recognize her worth once more.

But then Karigan returned. Estora had visited her a couple of times, but to see Zachary sitting with her day and night was like a knife in her side. All the affection she had hoped to gain from him was no more. He hardly even acknowledged Estora's existence. It was as if he had finally awoken from a dream to a world in which she did not exist. And so she simply attended official functions and audiences as necessary, and watched with regret as Zachary walked away at the end without even glancing at her. She dined alone or with her mother and sisters, and felt completely isolated without Laren present, because none of his new advisors would talk to her.

And yet—she would not betray him by complaining or by encouraging spiteful gossip. Deep down some part of her—the conscience that felt guilty about the treacherous voice—recognised that this was for the best. She had never quite really felt fit to be a Queen, but she would have done her best. She was not brave and strong like Karigan. She could be intelligent and loyal, and she had begun to hope that was enough. But she knew it was not really her part to play.

Estora shifted in her chair and winced as the babe inside her kicked vigorously. The King's child was a fighter like his father. The cutting voice whispered again inside her head. What would the future King think if he found out he was conceived while his father was virtually unconscious? She wished for the first time in many moons that the child was F'ryan's and that she could make all these complications disappear. She covered her face in her hands as a tear ran down her cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Those who haven't… please do! I don't care if you have nothing useful to say, it also lets me know who is out there! Just say hi =)**

**I think I started writing this aiming to turn it into some kind of epic… but I'm not sure how long I'm going to make it after all, or how detailed… if I get lots of nice reviews I will put more effort in!**

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**Chapter 6: Awakening and divine intervention**

The King walked back to his chambers the following morning after another good hard training session with Drent. The exercise and fresh air did him good. Drent had remarked that he walked with a lighter step; Zachary confided in his old training master that he was relieved he finally had some control over his future. They had news on the enemy's movements. The only thing that really troubled him, Zachary thought to himself as he walked, was the possession of the Lord of Mirwell and the fact that they had no idea how far Mornhavon's power reached. But it had always been obvious that Mornhavon would be using dark magic in this battle and there wasn't much he could really do about it. When Lord Timas had failed to appear for the Council, he had thought perhaps he just couldn't stomach the thought of an honest alliance. But no matter—the sooner this battle was fought, the better.

The only thing that worried him now was how this inescapable battle would affect Karigan. She had survived brushes with Mornhavon twice now, and he somehow felt that once returned, the dark one wouldn't just ignore her.

Zahary's thoughts continued on this line all the way to his chamber, until a green foot runner sprinted up behind them at the door. Donal frowned and reached out to steady the small boy as he gasped for breath, not even stopping to bow. "Your Majesty, Rider G'ladheon is awake".

The King ran towards the mending wing still in his sweat-stained training clothes and with his Weapons close behind, leaving astonished servants and passers-by in their wake.

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Upon entering the white room, Zachary saw Karigan sitting up against a pile of pillows. Some colour had returned to her face, but she still looked tired. In the chair the King usually occupied sat her father, who was surreptitiously wiping away tears that were running down his sun-bronzed face. Zachary had only visited a few times since her father arrived, wanting to give him time alone with his daughter. He had wanted to talk to Clan chief G'ladheon about Karigan, but now that she had awoken his plans changed slightly.

Zachary looked at Karigan with concern, asking "How do you feel?" He noticed Stevic's fleeting look of surprise at his lack of formal address. Karigan smiled but there was a strange otherworldliness in her eyes. She paused before answering, as if speaking from a long way away "Much better than I did before, thank you Sire. I am relieved to be back, and I expect I will be able to make a full report soon". She blinked and then stifled a yawn. "You should rest, Karigan. We have had a full report from Rider Lynx so you have plenty of time to recuperate. I will come back to see how you are going later. It's good to have you back". He smiled lightly at her and stepped outside, but he was hurt by the wariness in her tone. Of course she must have heard about his marriage, probably from her father or one of the menders. There was a darkness about her too, that he hadn't seen before. Of course whatever she had been through had affected her, and he chided himself mentally for forgetting it. He longed to sit with her and question her gently, to hold her and tell her everything would be alright. If she would only let him.

He saw Ben coming out of a room nearby and called him over. "What does Karigan remember?" he asked quietly. Ben blushed and looked down before he answered, which Zachary thought strange. "She said she remembered being stuck somewhere underground, and then being transported magically here. She was reluctant to talk about how it happened. She said she knew she had arrived here but the next thing she remembered was waking up". The King cursed inwardly; so she remembered nothing of what he had said to her when she had opened her eyes, or the many days and nights he had refused to leave her side. He looked sideways to Fastion standing guard at Karigan's door, and Fastion nodded before Zachary even said anything. Thank the gods for his wily Weapons, Zachary thought. They would tell him when her father left, so he could visit her alone. He turned and left the mending wing and headed to his chambers for dinner, his thoughts churning. He thought she cared for him, but was he the one dreaming?

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The next day was public audience day, but they expected not many people would come as the message had gone out across the land to prepare their homes and villages for the coming battle. Many men and even boys had come to Sacor City to volunteer to join the fighting forces, some for a chance to defend their country and others foolishly hoping to gain some glory. The few people Zachary had to hear were dealt with quite quickly, mainly concerns about the coming conflict, and a couple of stories of strange or magical occurrences filtering in from the western provinces. These stories worried Zachary but as Laren had once said before, there was not much they could do about it and so he dealt with them as sensibly as he could.

As the King and his weapons walked through the entrance to his private chambers, he stopped so suddenly that Willis behind him almost fell backwards trying not to run into him. In front of his desk, in blazing black armour, was a warrior with a helm shaped like a bird's beak. Zachary could feel the alertness from the weapons but for some reason they stayed where they were.

The voice from within the helm rang out as if it came from the high vaulted ceiling. "Zachary Hillander, High King of Sacoridia". Zachary bowed, his mind reeling. Could this be Westrion himself? "Willis, Black Shields, I must speak alone with your King." The deep voice echoed inside his skull, full of raw power. The king nodded fractionally to the Weapons and Willis led them from the room.

Zachary was startled; the death God seemed to know his Weapons. "Lord Westrion… you have come for the battle?"

"No High King", the death God's answer sounded vaguely amused. "I have come for my avatar. The one they call Karigan Galadheon. She will be needed for this battle. You must let her go, and you will not speak with her again until after the battle is won. She is the Rider of Hope and the Black Star will be forced to her will. The dark one will be undone and the fate of the world of men and eletians will be left in their own hands once more. Your Weapon-servants shall aid her in her quest, listen to their words for they have the Key and the knowledge. Good luck".

Zachary watched as a magnificent stallion appeared in the corner near the fireplace, with an inky black coat; the mane billowed like black smoke, and there were midnight stars in his eyes. Westrion mounted the horse, and when he blinked the Death God and his steed were gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is a short one because… there's some majorly big stuff coming!**

**Please keep reading and reviewing! Thanks!**

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**Chapter 7: A visitor **

Karigan awoke to the stillness of early morning. She couldn't remember the nightmares very well but she could feel by the scratchiness of her throat that she had been screaming. Often she dreamed of falling through endless starry skies, and woke as her body tensed for the impact.

It really was unusually early; despite the fact that she had been resting for several days after waking, she still seemed to retain her old habit of waking late. She listened for the sounds of the castle or the menders going about their rounds but could only hear her own breathing.

She turned her head to the side where the narrow window was and jumped. There was a shadowy form standing by the side of her bed. The ghost rider smiled at her a little sadly. Karigan sat up hurriedly; her heart was galloping in her chest. Or was that the faint beating of wings? She scowled at the apparition. "You scared me." The ghost laughed faintly and she thought she remembered his face. "Wait… you've visited me before, haven't you?" He nodded. "Yes, I was the last Green Rider to serve as Westrion's avatar. We both have shared Lil's broach. Karigan, there is a battle coming soon, the last stand of men and Eletians against Mornhavon. He was injured when you smashed the mask, but he has recovered and is gathering forces. Westrion is going to intercede in this battle as the Gods have decided that without this intervention, Mornhavon may triumph and become greater than ever before. But you must ride as his avatar, as he cannot act directly."

Karigan's eyes widened as he talked about the Weapons aiding her; they had the secret knowledge of how to use the Black Star. She couldn't believe they had had the knowledge all this time but never tried to use it or find the Black Star. Something to do with prophecies and ancient promises. She made a face. So like the Weapons to be secretive and never reveal what they knew—until now. It worried her that so much seemed to rest on her actions. What could one young Rider do against the might of Mornhavon? The apparition explained about his time as avatar, and she felt a little better, at least they had the Gods on their side! He was interrupted in his explanations by Karigan's stomach rumbling loudly.

Karigan blushed. "Sorry, I seem to have gotten my appetite back." The ghost rider just laughed. "And I seem to have forgotten that mortals need to eat." She smiled and he cautioned her not to talk of this to anyone, then faded out with a wave. As she sat up a little to call one of the Menders, she thought she saw the faint outline of a dark figure against the far wall, but it disappeared again. Must have been a trick of the light, she told herself tiredly.

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Mara came to visit Karigan after lunch. Normally she could make Karigan laugh, but today Karigan was unusually quiet. Karigan apologized for her glum mood, blaming the nightmares that plagued her in her sleep. Mara raised her good eyebrow, but gave her a kiss on the cheek and left her to herself.

Karigan stared up at the ceiling as the thoughts whirled through her head. A battle. Dark forces and Second Empire. Mornhavon. The thought of him made her shudder. So much evil power, directed at an army of men—men who had shunned magic and magical knowledge. Fools. She hoped the Eletians would come to fight; after all, Eletia could not be unaffected by these events. Perhaps the king would ask them for assistance.

Zachary. Her heart stuttered as she thought of his eyes, full of concern when he came to visit her. She did not know what to think. He had a ring on his finger—he had tried to hide it from her, she thought, but what point was there when she knew of his marriage? Mara had hinted at a consummation too, but Karigan didn't want to hear about it. She felt like a string was wound around her heart, that pulled tighter and tighter with every word.

He had visited a few times, but then suddenly stopped coming. She had to conclude he did not care for her any longer. He could not care for her. He was married and besides, a King needed to be strong and lead his people into battle. Of course he could not be concerned any longer with an injured rider. She must put him out of her head and prepare herself for what she had to do.


	8. Chapter 8

**Here it is… the big battle of Good vs Evil that we've all been waiting for!**

**Huge thank you to my tireless beta Britt (who has a secret knack for gory details) and to Owlkin who pulled both this chapter and its flailing author out of a ditch! She is well versed in historical type stuff and she assisted with a lot of the battle scene. Together they make an extremely helpful and rather comical duo. Merci, mes amies.**

**Please send me a review after reading this, and join in the fun on the Fanfiction Forum page!**

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**Chapter 8: The battle begins**

The day before the battle dawned cold and clear. King Zachary strode through the encampment, meeting General Urtisch on the way. "Everything is fully prepared, your Majesty". Zachary nodded distractedly in response. They paused at the edge of the row of tents, looking at the horizon to the West. A bank of black clouds roiled along the horizon, like a storm rolling in off the sea. Yet this was no ordinary storm, he knew. There was something evil about this storm, and he knew what—or who—was the cause of it. Mornhavon.

Karigan had disappeared from the mending wing early that morning, vanishing just as suddenly as she had appeared, but he could not afford to worry about her. She had recovered enough strength to look after herself now, and he consoled himself with the thought that Westrion would surely protect her too. Estora was back at the castle, as the time for the birth of their babe was nigh. She would be well protected by the dozen or so Weapons remaining there, as well as various aides, and was helping to oversee the movement of supplies to the temporary refugee camps that had sprung up within the walls of Sacor City.

Zachary clamped his mouth in a straight line as he forced his thoughts to stay upon the impending battle.

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The sunlight gleamed on the armor of the battalions of foot soldiers, and all was quiet apart from the stamp of the horses from the Light Brigade, and the jingle as they tossed their heads. They held their ground on the slopes below Sacor City, waiting. Lines of archers stood slightly behind the foot soldiers, their bows held at the ready as their eyes searched the skies and hills. Nervous pikemen clutched their weapons as they stationed themselves in front of the battalions, standing ready to repel enemy cavalrymen, or any other creatures that Mornhavon could conjure. This was the front line of the Sacoridian army, positioned by the General and his advisors on the top of the rise, so the enemy would have to climb to meet them. Behind the ridge, in the valley below the City walls, the reserve units waited.

Out on the horizon a black fog swirled menacingly. Suddenly a cry came up from the western flank, and out of the fog came the sound of thousands of feet, thundering towards the surprised soldiers. Decisive commands were shouted instinctively, as several forward lines swung around to meet the groundmites, with the reserve being brought up in their wake. Soon, the air was thick with the stench of dead groundmites and the clash of blades. The metallic clang of steel sounded, met flesh, and quickly, the ground was saturated with the rancid blood of slain groundmites.

The Sacoridian forces fought valiantly, cutting down wave after wave of snarling groundmites. The beasts, although savage, did not possess the intelligence to realize that they were outmaneuvered, and thus many of the soldiers began to work in pairs, taunting a group of groundmites from one side and then attacking them from behind. At last the dark wave ceased and the soldiers stopped in relief, watching as the survivors scuttled away, not bothering to carry their wounded to safety. Reports came in from across the front; they had some casualties in the first wave, and a few horses had been killed, but the losses were relatively few. The army took up a defensive position for the night, running picket lines across the plains, ready to raise the alarm should the enemy strike again that night. But all was quiet as the cool breeze swept through the grasses; most of the wounded had been moved to the mending areas but the bodies of the dead lay where they had fallen. It was not worth the risk to attempt moving the corpses as they lay in the shadows of night, cloaked in obscurity. No one dared to venture into the open.

On the next day came even more groundmites, and more the next, and the next. The stench became almost unbearable as the heat of the day bore down on the two armies. The Sacoridian soldiers continued to cut them down as they came in their simple frontal assaults, almost mindlessly throwing themselves on the experienced soldiers.

Then nearly a week after the first battle, the day dawned dull with bluish-grey clouds rolling across the sky, and obscuring the sun. There were no more groundmites on that day, and so, the army waited with uneasy anticipation. Carrion birds descended to scavenge amongst the corpses on the field. The army commanders were glad of the brief respite to allow the weary and overwhelmed soldiers to rest, but the tension in the air was palpable. Whatever this lull in hostilities meant, it was not over.

Then from the skies in the south-west, high over the Wingsong Mountains appeared dozens of huge black flying beasts, with dagger-like talons and sharp eyes. Unlike the groundmites, these creatures flew in a uniformed formation, their wings folding in as they dropped quickly in altitude, talons outstretched as they loomed closer to the troops on the ground. The avians wreaked havoc on the Sacoridians, flinging aside men and horses alike with their claws and killing dozens with their cruel beaks. Their bodies seemed almost impervious to weapons, as archers vainly aimed at exposed necks and vital organs, and the infantrymen failed to repel with their sharp blades. Several battalions were now well below full strength, as their survivors desperately tried to make their way behind the lines of the reserve units, their junior commanders fallen and unable to take control of the situation. The higher commanders sent Green Riders forward, desperate for news amidst the flurry of feathers and the anguished screams of fallen men. The army's center began to condense, drawing itself in further from the onslaught of air attacks, as the flanks began to collapse.

Then suddenly Lord Amberhill appeared from the east atop an elegant sapphire dragon, leading a dozen jewel toned dragons into the fray. His raven hair flew in the breeze and his face was now weathered. His grin was not the foppish smile he once wore, but brilliant and wild. Riding another gigantic dragon next to him was the witch Yolandhe, who, as the legends told, had an affinity with the mythical creatures. The dragons engaged Mornhavon's beasts, shooting great bursts of fire at their eyes and tearing at their wings with gigantic claws. Men scattered in every direction as several beasts fell shrieking from the sky, the ground shaking from the impact of the bodies that trembled where they landed. Finally the last few beasts had flown away with indignant screeches and the battle died down once more. Amberhill, Yolandhe and their squadron of dragons disappeared as suddenly as they had arrived, leaving the grateful but bemused Sacoridians to tend to the wounded.

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That night Fergal was on his way back to the Green Rider mess tent, having visited some of the injured Riders in the mending area. He grinned as he thought of how he had been able to cheer them up with some of the rowdier songs he had learned at the Golden Rudder, and the look on Karigan's face if she was here. He happily shook his head as he walked into the mess tent and made his way over to Tegan and Garth near the far wall, sitting with some of the newer riders. Well, previously new riders; they were all battle-seasoned now. He opened his mouth to greet them when Sophina clutched at her head and moaned, her eyes clenched shut with the power of the vision.

"What is it?" asked Tegan quickly. Sophina's talent of true-seeing had proved exceptionally useful in the past.

"Grey smoke… no, fog", Sophina gasped.

"It has eyes in it, eyes everywhere. It's around the city and…everyone is… ill. His face is in the fog. Red eyes", her voice trailed off and then she fainted dead away, slumping sideways into Garth. Fergal jumped up and looked around the room. "Trace", he called urgently. She looked at him with alarm and came running over. He asked "Is Connly in the briefing? Can you get a message to him?" She nodded quickly and he filled her in, her eyes glazing over as she relayed Sophina's vision.

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The grey fog curled its way around the city, forcing its way into houses through cracks and under doors. All who were touched by it were instantly infected by its poisonous vapors, developing, within hours, a hacking cough. Those who managed to live through the night woke to find their underarms and torso covered with raised purple pustules, which eventually spread to their faces and limbs. All the while the disease slowly ate away at the unaffected surrounding skin and left large irregular patches of necrotic skin in its wake. Those lucky few who survived the latter stages of the deadly disease had to contend with the aftermath and many suffered blindness or were marred by hideous scarring, some too weak even to tend to the others.

Far away in the Wingsong Mountains, Mornhavon cackled with glee. His powers impressed even himself. Although he had now taken corporeal form—he paused to admire his thin white hands—he was able to fly with this magic fog he had conjured, using it to see and travel across the land. He cackled again as he hovered within the fog, rising higher and higher, surging up the Winding Way and towards the castle to finish his work. He wanted to make the Sacoridians suffer, and how better to strike than at the heart of the country, at its populace? He twisted and whirled with the hideous vapor, aiming its poisons at the weak, young and elderly. But particularly the young. Let the children die, the future generations and the hopes placed upon them, and those who survived his victory on the battlefield would die of sorrow.

Finally he was done, the fog poured out of the castle and with it he shot high into the air, and then with a great shriek, the grey clouds shattered into thousands of tiny wisps, and fell like deadly rain towards the far corners of the land. The Black One released his control on the deadly tendrils. _Let it fall where it may; wherever it lands they will suffer_. Their pain would fuel his ambition and his determination.

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The dark clouds still rolled across the plains, moving ever closer, and growing thicker and higher. The soldiers shifted impatiently as the sun struggled above them and over the distant mountains, marking the dawn of the third week of fighting.

In the middle of the night a Rider had come from the castle, bearing the ill news. The plague had hit the city hard and many had perished, especially the children. The castle had been just as badly affected, and the pennants upon the battlements were lowered in mourning. Queen Estora had given birth prematurely to her child, a tiny boy with golden hair, but both were weakened by the disease and she died only minutes after seeing her babe take his last breath.

For the weary soldiers out on the battlefield, this news brought even grimmer expressions than before. Many had families who lived in Sacor City or had taken refuge there. With the news of the terrible illness, the men knew their wives and children may very well be lying dead, or sick and helpless, and their moral had sunk even lower than before. A few deserted quietly in the night, and although the commanders were not happy, there was not much they could do about the renegades.

But it was a mark of the men's loyalty to Zachary that most still stood, now with steely expressions and anger in their hearts. The enemy was very real now, and they were united against this monstrous being who had dared to so casually slaughter their loved ones. He must be stopped, and this resolution gave them new determination.

A horn rang out in the distance and the clouds lifted, revealing legions of Second Empire soldiers, flanked by black creatures of all shapes and sizes. Their eyes glowed with a mad fervor —mutants spawned from Blackveil. The Second Empire soldiers were dressed in red and black, and the commanders also seemed to have eyes that glowed crimson in the dim light. Next to the Second Empire troops was a contingent of Mirwellian soldiers, led by the Lord-Governor himself. Timas' thin hand clutched a medallion at his chest, and his eyes too were blood red, fueled by some evil magic. High above, the Great Arms of Mirwell fluttered listlessly in the breeze.

In the very middle of the line stood a tall figure, dressed in black armor that seemed to consume the surrounding light, leaving everything nearby cloaked in darkness. The dark commander raised his arms, listening with a sinister smile as his army roared in tribute. Then Mornhavon lowered his hand abruptly and the battle began in earnest. The creatures around him surged forward, and the air was full of the sounds of snarling beasts and the clash of blades. Mornhavon himself stood still, his dark eyes darting left and right as he hurled crackling balls of energy at the Sacoridian fighters.

Even with their grim resolve Zachary's army was tiring quickly, after the weeks of battle they had already endured. The soldiers in black and silver fell with greater frequency under the insane ferocity of the mutant animals. The lines of soldiers pressed forward, clambering over dead bodies of friend and foe, to meet the onslaught at the front line. But slowly they were being pushed backwards and the Second Empire soldiers gave cries of excitement as they advanced.

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At the command post at the top of the ridge, King Zachary and his advisors surveyed the battle below with rising despair. A knot of Green Riders stood nearby, and Weapons dotted each corner of the pavilion. All their reserve units had been sent into action, and the entire army, or what was left of it, were exhausted. The infantry in particular had lost most of its men; only the 3rdand 8th Battalions still had enough soldiers to retain their designation; the rest had re-grouped as the battle wore on.

The king and his advisors had hardly slept either, their councils continuing long into the night and then commencing early in the darkness of the morning as the nightmarish battle had continued. Zachary was sure he had hardly slept at all for three long weeks. He felt the weight of this responsibility, all these lives lost, weighing down upon him like some inexorable force. Even more so when the news came in about the plague, and Zachary's grief had been terrible in its intensity. He did not have the luxury to stop and cry; to pause and simply mourn for not only his wife and first-born child, but so many other innocent citizens, men, women and children. The most he could do was admit that there was nothing he could have done to stop this. He had never felt so powerless in his life, nor so enraged at the reckless waste of lives.

He must find a way to win this battle, sooner rather than later, or else there would not be much of the kingdom left. He felt his desperation mount, as the Second Empire's pennants came closer and closer into view.

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**Oh no! What can Zachary and the Sacoridians do to win the battle? Will good triumph over evil? Where is Karigan (again!)? All will be revealed soon, but not until you REVIEW!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: You were wondering what happened to Karigan? Read on, brave GR fans, and you shall find out!**

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**Chapter 9: A King enters the fray**

Zachary sighed and wiped away the sweat that trickled down his brow. It was imperative he keep a clear head; if they didn't make their next move soon, the battle would be lost. General Urtisch seemed to be saying something, and Zachary tilted his head slightly in an attempt to get the buzzing out of his ears. "We are outnumbered. Our fighting is superior but the horses are being spooked by Mornhavon's magic and the men are losing their nerve. Your Majesty, if we want to win this battle we must defeat Mornhavon himself."

Zachary just shook his head. They had had this conversation more times than he could count, but what could he do about it? He would have liked to call Amberhill and the dragons back, but no-one knew where to find his mysterious cousin. The Eletians surely had answers to some of this, but in their maddening manner they had refused to respond to his missives. His surprise visit weeks ago from Westrion indicated the Gods had an interest in the outcome of this battle, but where were they? Surely the Gods would not wait until it was too late before intervening. He kept his thoughts firmly away from a certain Green Rider who Westrion had named as his avatar. He could not afford to think of _her_.

Out of the corner of his eye Zachary saw Fastion stride up the rise towards the post, and begin an animated conversation with Tiyhryd Angg, who mostly seemed to be shaking his head. Fastion began to answer back with increasing vehemence, until everyone else had turned like Zachary to watch the debate. Finally his Weapons Advisor nodded slowly and Fastion turned on his heel to approach the king.

The Black Shield bowed abruptly and launched quickly into an explanation, an extraordinary urgency in his low voice. "My liege, as you know the Black Shields are concerned with the knowledge of Westrion. We would not have discussed this openly had the circumstances been less dire, but you already know we have assisted Karigan with what knowledge we have, and that she will use this knowledge as Westion's avatar. However the Gods do not inform us of their plans, and we have been hastily contemplating the reason for the continued absence of divine assistance." Fastion hadn't wanted to talk of this in front of the king's other advisors, but these were extenuating circumstances, as Angg had finally admitted.

Fastion looked at Zachary whose eyes were narrowed with unusual distrust. After a long pause Zachary said "Yes, Westrion mentioned… something about your knowledge in this area." A lump had formed in his throat at the mention of Karigan's name, and he suppressed the peculiar urge to throttle the black-clad man in front of him, for allowing her to go into danger like this; for being so calm when the world was falling apart. For being in league with the very Gods that had forsaken them.

When it became clear the king was not going to say anything further, Fastion continued. "Sire, we think the Gods are waiting for _you_ to go into battle. We cannot explain their ways, but we must show them our utmost commitment to this before they will engage." There was a shocked silence among the advisors, many of whom had already paled at the mention of the death God.

Zachary's brows lifted and Fastion was about to argue further when Zachary simply nodded. Yes, this felt better. There was nothing worse than sitting up here while his troops were slaughtered on the plains below. Estora and their child were both dead. Even Karigan could be dead. His advisors looked on with horrified expressions as Zachary said in a ringing voice, "Yes. We shall go into battle. Saddle my horse and bring me my armor!"

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Those who fought alongside King Zachary that day told afterwards how he fought like the legendary King Joneaus himself. Songs were sung about their courageous King, who rode like a fury down onto the battlefield, riding a path towards the enemy. The sunlight glinted off his armour, and his sword leapt in a gleaming arc as he threw aside astonished Second Empire soldiers and dozens of wild beasts. His military advisors and a dozen Weapons rode in a phalanx behind him.

The heartened Sacoridian soldiers gave a cheer and rallied alongside their king, fighting with new vigor. Wave after wave of the enemy fell as Zachary led his army forward.

Suddenly Zachary stopped and the world seemed to turn in slow motion about him. He felt a presence behind him and turned to look into the gleaming red eyes of Mornhavon, who had somehow appeared in the midst of their ranks. The Black One laughed, a chilling sound that carried on the air. The phalanx of Weapons quickly arranged themselves in formation around their liege.

"The latest in the line of barbarians", Mornhavon scoffed, his cold voice resounding through the shocked silence. "A tiny crawler who dares to call himself king. Now I have returned to claim my rights as Emperor of this land—and you and your race will be exterminated for good. The great Mornhavonia will grow and rival the greatness of Arcosia itself!"

Zachary made no response, but thought he looked insane. These were the rantings of a man driven mad by his lust for power and his time in exile. He raised his sword in salute and waited for the first blow.

Mornhavon raised his hand and made a flicking motion, and black vines thrust out of the ground, wrapping their lengths around Zachary's legs. The Weapons ran forward and began hacking at the vines, but suddenly more of the sinuous vines curled from the ground to hold them in place, encircling their sword arms and rooting them to the ground. Mornhavon began to laugh as the king and his men struggled in vain against the deadly creepers. "Now you will watch as I destroy your people, just as—"

The Black One paused and his nostrils quavered as he sensed a change in the air. For the first time he frowned, looking upwards in fury at the interruption. A small speck had appeared in the sky, then grew larger until the form of a huge black stallion was visible. Black wings protruded from its back which beat against the air with otherworldly power. Every muscle rippled through his gleaming black coat, and his silky mane and tail flowed streaming behind him.

"Salvistar", whispered Fastion in awe. On his back, rode a great warrior in gleaming armour, with a traditional visored helm, holding a great curved sword aloft. This was not Westrion, but one who rode for Him. A stillness settled over the battle ground as Sacoridians and Second Empire, soldiers and beasts alike, watched the horse and rider descend, then land noiselessly on the ground beside Mornhavon and King Zachary.

The great horse stood still as its rider dismounted and approached Mornhavon. Galaxies swirled in the steed's coal black eyes and time itself appeared to pause and listen.

Zachary felt as if an icy hand gripped his heart. He opened his mouth to speak but the avatar moved its helm fractionally from side to side, urging him to keep quiet. It took every ounce of control he had to remain still and watch the figure, who evidently wanted to remain anonymous, turn to Mornhavon. The avatar took a step forward and appeared to consider the figure of the Black One standing before her. "Allessandros del Mornhavon", the voice rang out loud and clear, but with the human voice was a second powerful voice, the voice of Westrion. "The Gods have decided to intervene. You cannot be allowed to continue your path of destruction."

Mornhavon laughed once more, a mocking laugh. "And does Westrion think this little twig, this mortal being can stop me? I am the Black One, Mornhavon the Great. My magic powers can rival the Gods themselves!" He reached up to the sky and pulled down an enormous flash of white lightning; it hummed with energy, great tendrils tearing across the sky, and then he pointed at the figure before him and the bolt struck. The white light seemed to slide down a shield around the avatar, and burned a circle on the grass. The white light grew in intensity; the heat was searing and would have melted normal armor. The avatar shifted uncomfortably, appearing to have difficulty holding the shield in place; suddenly a shaft of light broke through the shield and hit the blade of the saber, which snapped in half. The lightning stopped. The avatar merely tossed the hilt aside, unconcerned, reaching instead to pull something out from beneath the armored breastplate. It was a small dark object. The gloved hand held it out for Mornhavon to see. It was the Black Star, forged in blood by Allessandros himself. His face grew mottled red with anger at the sight of his most coveted possession and he lunged greedily for it.

As Mornhavon lunged for the Black Star, the avatar started to sing, a high unearthly sound, holding the Black Star towards Mornhavon, riveting him in place mid-stride. Suddenly from the woods around them came the sound of many more voices, which lifted in unison to the song, and hundreds of Eletians in pearly armour emerged, led by King Santanara. Now the Black Star itself began to hum in harmony, vibrating powerfully. The song shifted and soared, modulating like waves on an ocean. Suddenly a great rainbow of light erupted from the centre of the Star, and rose in a great spiral around Mornhavon. Everyone looked on in amazement as a thick, greasy black substance poured off him, like wax dripping off a melted candle, taking portions of his life-being with it, only to be encompassed and swept away by the rainbow light that continued to dance around him. Finally the rainbow faded and Mornhavon shuddered, looking dull, deflated and lifeless. His eyes closed as he fell to one knee weakly, visibly trying to keep his body upright.

The eletian king stepped forward gracefully. Mornahavon appeared to force his eyes open with an effort. "Allessandros del Mornhavon, your powers and soulless magic are no more. In the name of my people, and in honour of Queen Laurelyn, I vanquish thee". He raised his withered hand and the form of Mornhavon fell to the ground and vaporized, leaving a wisp of black smoke in its wake.

After a nod from Santanara the avatar removed the helm that concealed the wearer. Everyone stood in amazement as the helm was lifted and a long braided lock of hair flowed down the obsidian armor. Sir Karigan G'ladheon stood in front of them with an expression of startled relief, quickly replaced by great weariness. She looked down at her hand; the Black Star had crumbled into dust. An otherworldly breeze came up and took the fragments, swirling delicately, up to the heavens.

The vines that had held King Zachary and his Weapons captive had disappeared and the king darted forward to support Karigan as she swayed on the spot. She reached one trembling hand up to touch his cheek and then fainted in his arms.

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**There is one more chapter to come... will Karigan admit her feelings for the king or will she run away again? Please leave a review and tell me what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**This is the last chapter of After Blackveil. Thanks to Britt and Owlkin for their input.**

**Thank you to everyone for reading, following, favoriting and reviewing!**

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**Chapter 10: After the battle**

Word passed quickly through the assembled forces with the astonishing news that Mornhavon the Black had been defeated, and that Sir Karigan G'ladheon had been the heroic avatar of Westrion, and a great cheer went up. The Second Empire and Mirwellian soldiers surrendered quickly, while the mutant beasts tried to flee and were cut down by Sacoridians and Eletians.

The Sacoridian army, although exhausted, began the grueling task of cleaning up after the battle. The Eletians stayed to help as well, tending to the injured, which relieved the Menders immensely. Commanders shouted orders as soldiers, Weapons and Riders moved here and there, until all the living had been moved to the mending tents, which were situated a fair distance from the main battle ground. While dead Sacoridian soldiers were laid out to one side of the field, the dead groundmites, Blackveil beasts and Mornhavon's soldiers were heaped on pyres. Their weapons were stacked in a similar fashion, ready to be burned in order to rid the Sacoridians of the filth and malice in which they were forged.

Second Empire prisoners found themselves herded together by eletian guards, and they dared not think of escaping. Gradually the chaos returned to order and commanders gave final instructions as the army prepared to depart in a few days.

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At the edge of the clearing, under the overhang of the forest trees, the great black horse and the avatar stood. She stroked his neck gently but firmly, not giving way yet to the realization of what she had helped to accomplish. Salvistar pawed the ground, eager for her to mount, but Karigan shook her head slowly and whispered "No, my place is here". His ears flicked as she seemed to come to a decision and gave him one last pat, then strode forward into the busy encampment. When she glanced behind her a few moments later the Death God's steed was gone.

Karigan pushed through the crowd, skirting around the milling people as she headed purposefully up the hill to the far side of the encampment. The setting sun made the silk tents and flying pennants glow in rich colors of red and blue and green. Finally she reached the King's pavilion. She could hear voices coming from the large tent. As she hesitated near the entrance, the object of her reflection emerged, and started at the sight of her. "Karigan," Zachary breathed, looking uncertainly at her. She had gone through so much and he longed to comfort her.

"How, how are you?" he asked, cursing himself for not thinking of anything better to say.

"I'm—" she started to answer but her face crumpled. He stepped forward and gathered her in his arms. "Shhh", he murmured, stroking her hair. "It's over now, and I'm here." He tucked one hand around her waist, reveling in the freedom to be with her alone, and pulled her closer to him. He could feel her heart beat faster, then she pulled away abruptly with flushed cheeks, avoiding his gaze. She smoothed down her tunic and took a deep breath.

"Your majesty—" "_Zachary_," he said gently. She looked at him reluctantly but ignored his correction, asking "Queen Estora—?" He cursed himself silently. Of course she would not know what had happened in the war except for her part of it. "Estora is dead, Karigan. She died of the plague that Mornhavon spread through Sacor City and parts of Sacoridia". Karigan's eyes widened in distress and he continued hastily. "Your family are all fine; the region around Corsa was unaffected". She regarded him silently for a few moments, tears welling up in her eyes. "She was a good friend," she said softly, "and I was so cruel to her." Zachary reached to take her hands in his, and this time she did not pull away. "I know Estora regarded you as a friend, Karigan. You brought F'ryan Cobblebay's final letter to her and kept their secret safe. You _saved her_ _life _when she was kidnapped. She was much indebted to you. And now, you have helped to rid Sacoridia of the evil of Mornhavon; the evil that claimed her life. Do not be ashamed of anything you have done."

She gave him a small, doubtful smile, which faded as he continued. "Karigan—you have shown the utmost bravery today. We are all exhausted. But we can rest now—that is what your actions have given us—peace, security, and time to build the future that we want. A future where we turn our dreams into a reality." He looked at her earnestly, searchingly. Her eyes showed comprehension and anger. "But Your—_Zachary_—I am still the same Green Rider I was before. And you, you are still the king. Please do not torture us both with these empty words any longer." She looked away, breathing hard.

He answered her back quietly, yet with a vehemence that made her look up in surprise. "I am the king, yes. But I am not the king I was before. I have been weak and foolish, but today I have learnt that I must fight for what I want, and I am done with dancing to the whims of court politics. From now on I shall decide the course of my own life." He glanced down at their joined hands and his voice softened. "Karigan, I have not the time or energy to argue my point right now. But, when we return to the castle, I would be honored if you would give me your version of events here. Goodness knows the Weapons seem to be more acquainted with you these days, unnatural phenomenons that they are." He smiled as this familiar description elicited a weak chuckle from her. "And, until Captain Mapstone returns from her leave of absence, I would request your presence and advice at public hearings." She nodded silently at this. He watched her for a moment, steeling himself as he continued. "Karigan, I know I have caused you pain. But after everything you have done, my admiration for you has only increased. Please, allow me to be your friend, and perhaps one day you can give me another chance?"

She allowed herself a contented smile of agreement, finally relaxing, as he tucked her arm comfortably through his and they walked together towards the sunset.

THE END


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